The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series)

by Alexey Glushanovsky

  ‘Well, it’s necessary. Besides, someone said that after he’d been recharged, he would be capable of dealing with any Undead.’

  ‘I didn’t know it was a Supreme. Although… I can probably still deal with it.’ Outpost’s uncertainty was somehow not at all to Oleg’s liking.

  ‘Well, can you deal with it or not?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the warden-spirit admitted dolefully. ‘My documentation doesn’t provide me with a detailed description of their fighting and defence characteristics – it was top secret information. But what information I have is rather striking. There are a lot of traps on the second floor although they are not activated due to lack of energy resources. But they are all aimed at people and magicians. There wasn’t anything that targeted the Undead – why should we protect ourselves against our own slaves and set traps for them?’

  ‘OK. Well, we’ll get ourselves to the spell room, charge you up a bit and then we’ll see how you can help,’ Oleg said, going down the stairs as fast as he could.

  ‘Oh, I can help in many ways. Even if I can’t bring it down independently, then together we’ll be able to deal with it relatively easily. It just so happens that I have quite a few powerful “decelerators” on the second tier. While it’s caught in the time webs you’ll be able to take it with your bare hands. There used to be a special trap there intended not to kill but to capture magicians.’

  ‘Take it as a prisoner? What for? And anyhow, is it even possible? After all, you’d only need to weaken your control for a second and it’d turn into fog and disappear. And you’d be lucky if it didn’t strike you in the back while it was about it. No, I intend to destroy it!’

  ‘As you wish, Sovereign. Only, you are probably not aware that every Undead of the Dark Citadel was fitted with absolute loyalty to one whom they gave the Oath of Blazing Blood.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Another idea from our black sorcerers. It’s odd you haven’t heard of it. The oath utterly chains any Undead. If there is any attempt at treachery, the Vampire who gave the oath will burn up. And it seems to me that a servant like a Supreme Vampire could be very useful to you. And if you don’t need it, maybe you could leave it here with me,’ Outpost drawled dreamily. ‘It could feed me with energy, hasten my recovery, clear the rubble...’

  ‘That’s enough of dreaming. We’ll divide unhatched chickens – or rather, the uncaptured she-vampire – later. Now our task is to recharge a certain warden-spirit. Where is your spell room?’ While they were talking Oleg had gone down the seemingly never-ending staircase and was now in a smallish round room with many corridors leading off it.

  ‘Take the one furthest to the left, right to the end.’ The sphere of transparent light acting as Oleg’s guide shuddered and bristled, as though from cold, and after diminishing its glow a bit, darted into the dark passageway hung with the remains of rotting curtains.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  Outpost kept silent for a while, and then announced reluctantly: ‘Energy. There’s hardly any left. Before you came I slept, but now I am working at full output, I’ve switched on the vocal interface, the scanners, the guide … The reserves are running low…’

  ‘I see. I hadn’t realized you were in such bad shape. Enough chatting, then, lead on while your crystals still have not run down completely.’

  The guide was flickering unevenly and Oleg strode after it quickly, sometimes breaking into a run. He certainly didn’t want to lose such a useful assistant just because of his own slowness. Soon he reached metal doors, the whole surface of which was covered in runes. Looking at them, Oleg was amazed to recognize a few familiar signs signalling protection from magical forces. But the majority of signs were completely unfamiliar to him.

  ‘And now what? By the way, I can’t squeeze through a key hole. And there isn’t a keyhole here anyway,’ he added giving the heavy door a gentle kick.

  ‘Hold on…’ Outpost’s voice was fraught with tension.

  The little fire which had until now served as the guide flickered and went out. The creak of opening doors rang out loudly in the deep darkness.

  Oleg lit a small but bright fireball above his shoulder and stepped into the passage opening up before him.

  The spell chamber of the Black Tower was a long, narrow hall and the whole floor was engraved with geometric figures. At one end of the hall, on a fragile metal stand was a greenish, round stone about the size of a baby’s head. Fragments of armour were lying beneath it, together with an evilly-grinning skull. At the other end hung a huge slab of black granite, to all appearances the experimental altar he sought.

  ‘Go up to the lead stone and put your hands around it.’ The warden-spirit’s voice grew slow and drawn out. ‘It’s the big green stone on the left hand side of the hall.’

  Oleg quickly strode over to the stone and put his hands on it. The next instant, his consciousness merged with the Tower. He became a military construction of the Empire of Dark, the Third Outpost, the Black Tower. The knowledge of all its nooks and crannies, the complete information regarding its condition, its weapons, the damage it had sustained, its capabilities and problems poured into him.

  The latter had the upper hand. The victors had not bothered to waste their time and strength on destroying the outpost for good reasons. Having demolished the above-ground energy receptors, they hadn’t bothered to destroy the underground levels, condemning the tower and its spirit to a slow and tortuously long demolition at the hands of time and insufficient energy resources. At the moment when Oleg arrived, the tower was on its last legs.

  Now aware of this sad story, Oleg wasted no time. He thrust some of his own energy into the tower’s accumulators. It was but a drop in the ocean, but it was enough for the warden-spirit’s artificial intelligence to function and to activate the sacrificial altar, after which Oleg ‘switched himself off’.

  The lighting in the hall clearly improved. A whitish sphere bobbed in front of Oleg, a larger and brighter version of his previous guide.

  ‘Go on, show me how to use your sacrificial altar,’ Oleg muttered watching the contortions of the small ball of fire.

  ‘Please step this way, my lord,’ and the sphere shot off to the stone block.

  Oleg walked over to the broad slab of black marble with a pentagram etched onto its surface.

  ‘Place the artefacts on the slab one by one in the centre of the pentagram.’

  Oleg used one of the black poignards for the first experiment. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the lines of the pentagram began to glow dimly and the poignard was enveloped in an opaque bluish haze. Three minutes went by, then the haze dissipated. All that was left where the menacing, enchanted weapon had been was a little heap of fine dust, its form mimicking that of the poignard.

  Light appeared in the room. The ceiling glowed softly.

  ‘More,’ Outpost asked.

  Over the next ten minutes Oleg fed the helmet and all the remaining poignards to the sacrificial altar. The length of time the magic haze held them varied and seemed to depend on the amount of magic contained in each object. After the last dagger had scattered into dust, and the sacramental cry of “More!” had run out once more, Oleg asked: ‘What’s the condition of your energy reserves now?’

  Outpost answered at once: ‘Energy levels of emergency storage have been fully restored. The deconservation of the main energo-crystal feeder is completed and its charging has begun. At the present moment, the main crystal has been charged up to three percent. I request that the charging continue.’

  With a sigh, Oleg pulled out the topaz.

  ‘I only have this left. By the way, you couldn’t tell me what it is exactly, could you?’

  The spirit of the tower let out a sigh of admiration.

  ‘We are fortunate, my Sovereign. This is a small portable energo-crystal, a very rare and highly prized talisman. And most importantly –it is full of energy!’

  This time the haze glimmered for mor
e than a quarter of an hour. When it finally dissipated, Oleg discovered to his amazement the same topaz lying on the stone altar just as it had before, though admittedly, considerably smaller in size. Previously the size of a walnut, it was now no larger than a pea.

  ‘The main crystal has been charged to thirty-seven percent,’ Outpost reported without waiting to be asked. ‘I did my best to download the energy as carefully as possible from the crystal so as not to damage it, and I didn’t take all of it. It might come in handy for you, Sovereign.’

  ‘Well done,’ Oleg praised him, hanging the crystal around his neck. ‘Maybe you can tell me how to use it, too?’

  ‘It can accumulate the energy naturally scattered from the aura of the one carrying it and liberate that energy according to its master’s wishes,’ Outpost answered obligingly. ‘Its previous master, most likely an air magician, must have gathered energy for a long time to charge this crystal so strongly.’

  ‘OK, we’ll get to grips with the crystal later. Now it’s time to deal with the she-vampire. I hope that now you’ve got enough strength to help me in the battle?’

  ‘Yes, ample. By the way, you can check for yourself.’ The guiding light sphere, almost imperceptible against the bright lighting, bounced over to the lead stone.

  ‘So it’s true,’ Oleg thought out loud. ‘There’s nothing better than studying the field of battle in advance.’

  Going over to the crystal, he immersed himself in studying the second underground tier. The she-vampire was in the former commander’s quarters. Or more precisely, the bedroom. The room had been carefully tidied, in marked contrast to the disarray which reigned in the other parts of the tower and gave it a rather wild impression. In places where it was impossible to hide the ravages of time using simple means, thin layers of mist could be seen – that was precisely how the magical eye perceived a vampire’s illusion. A lavishly arranged coffin stood in one corner with a black band tied around it lengthways. The black band was decorated with little ribbons. The lid had been moved to one side and Oleg could assure himself that its previous inhabitant was no longer there.

  The she-vampire herself was not far away. The Supreme Vampire which had struck such terror into the hearts of those living at Bel castle and kidnapped the young duke turned out to be a small, graceful, black-haired girl with very white skin and nice curves who looked about twenty-five. Flying in the face of tradition, which demanded Vampires should sleep in coffins, she was lying comfortably spread-eagled on the large, soft bed, evidently a left-over from the previous tenant’s bedroom. The kidnapped duke could be seen next to her. Judging from the satisfied smile on his lips, he was not overly suffering from his captivity. If anything, quite the opposite. Studying the situation – the couple lying on the bed were dressed like Adam and Eve – and the tenderness with which the dreamy-eyed, sixteen-year-old Kolin Bel embraced his kidnapper, any attempt to free him from this she-vampire would be met with the strongest opposition from the “hapless victim”.

  When he’d seen this picture, Oleg fell to thinking. He’d been contracted to drag the prey from the hands of an evil and capricious Vampire, and not a happy lover from the bed of his beloved woman. Oleg was on the point of calmly turning away and leaving the tower, without disturbing the couple, when Kolin decided to change his position. As a result, his head bent forwards slightly and Oleg could see his neck…and the two deep little wounds on the young duke’s main artery.

  The Duchess had not been lying. The lad was indeed in need of saving. Even if it had to be done against his will.

  Oleg took out the map of the traps on the second underground level. There were no snares in the bedroom itself.

  ‘Commander Tara categorically refused to have any military spells in her rooms. She was convinced she was strong enough to deal with any problem which might arise in her boudoir,’ Outpost prompted obligingly.

  ‘Then maybe we should call her and let her deal with this,’ Oleg suggested jokingly. Outpost, however, took his suggestion absolutely seriously.

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend it. She was, of course, a rather powerful magician, but it’s unlikely that her spirit would be able to hold out against a Supreme Vampire. What’s more, many Vampires have necromantic talents. In that case, there is a risk the spirit might be re-commandeered and Tara, alive or dead, is still my commander.’

  ‘OK, you’ve convinced me, I won’t invoke her. But what shall we do? Are you completely powerless to help?’

  ‘Why no, Knight. Take a look at this. All you need to do is to lure her into the corridor and lead her in between these two panels. I have a potent decelerator there. I can guarantee that the bonds it generates are well able to hold a Supreme Vampire temporarily.’

  ‘Well, then, that’s how we’ll go about it. Do you have a shortcut to the second level?’

  ‘Madame Commander’s private lift has already been activated. Please step this way.’

  Oleg tore himself away from the leading crystal. In the left corner of the spell room a smallish square on the floor was shining weakly and was, to all appearances, the lift.

  As he made his way towards it, Oleg thought carefully about which of his two swords he should take with him. On the one hand, his own silver-plated, two-handed sword had a fair amount of battle experience, was convenient and thanks to its long blade, gave him a considerable advantage in terms of distance. Furthermore, and most importantly, Oleg had already got used to it, had learnt to sense the sword and that was hugely significant and could often save a warrior’s life.

  On the other hand, the sword of the light magician, or the blade of Spiritual Fire as the tower’s Artificial Intelligence called it, possessed magical properties which, undoubtedly, would be come in very handy against an Undead immune to ordinary arms. Plus it was much lighter than his two-handed one, and its smaller size meant that he could wield it more freely in the tight corridors. Having weighed all this up, Oleg unfastened the scabbard with his two-handed sword from his back and laid it on the floor near the lift.

  ‘There’s no point in loading myself with an unnecessary weapon before a heavy battle,’ he decided. ‘And besides, it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to steal it.’ Then Oleg demonized fully and cast a semblance over himself making him appear as himself, only in human form. That would allow him to utilize all the advantages of his demon form, but without the danger of casual witnesses, in this case, the young duke. As for the Unclean, confronting a mere human she would always tend to react carelessly, thereby giving him another advantage.

  When all these preparations were complete, Oleg admired the flaming blade of his sword once more and stepped onto the shining square on the floor.

  ‘Lift activated,’ Outpost’s whisper of warning rustled in his ears, and Oleg found himself on the second underground level. Straight down the corridor he could see the door into the rooms which had once been the quarters of the tower’s commander, and were now the lair of a Supreme Vampire.

  With a sigh, Oleg gripped his sword more comfortably, drew his darkh with his left hand, intending to use it like a dagger, and thus prepared, set off in the direction of the commander’s chambers.

  ***

  Vereene couldn’t sleep. Usually she liked to nap during the day if possible. But this time sleep slipped away. She would either fall into short spells of oblivion saturated with nightmares and with much more terrifying memories, or would wake up once more in bed, in the embrace of young Duke Bel. It felt as though a stranger’s glance was boring into her back, full of danger and menace.

  For the century and a half of her existence, first as a simple Vampire (and they were not simple Vampires) and then as a Supreme Vampire, Vereene had grown accustomed to paying heed to such phenomena. Perhaps, that is what had enabled her to live such a long life and even survive the fall of the Dark Citadel, whose magicians endowed her with new capacities.

  The last time she had sensed something similar was just before the Hunters attacked her lair. Then she had initi
ally ignored the warning of her subconscious, and had been cruelly punished for it. The Hunters had slaughtered the Young Ones, exploiting the wakeless day-sleep of Vampires. Flying into a frenzied rage, she had taken revenge on the Hunters for the death of her slaves, many of whom she had created herself. Nevertheless, revenge, even the keenest revenge, was incapable of returning the dead. Having begun to reconstruct her lair, Vereene decided not to let the same mistake happen again and not to create ordinary vampires. No, now her subjects, her children, would only be Supreme ones, the pinnacle of the necromantic skills of the Dark Citadel. It wouldn’t be as easy to slaughter them as it had been last time. And what if it took much more time and energy to create one Supreme than it did to create as many as thirty simple vampires? She had plenty of time and it wasn’t difficult to renew her energy, the human settlement was right nearby…

  The Vampiress looked tenderly at her first chosen one. Strange though it might seem, after all the years since the fall of the Dark Citadel, this was the first time she had made up her mind to create something in her own image. Maybe he had himself played no small part in her decision. The young duke had noticed her when, sated, she had been dancing in the moonlight. When she stopped dancing, Kolin had come up and talked to her.

  Despite her age, somewhere deep down in her soul Vereene had always remained that twenty-five year old girl she had been when she had been converted. She had been impressed by the youth’s courage and unconcealed admiration, and she had been so impressed that when Kolin, or to be more precise, now simply Koly, had spoken of seeing each other, she had agreed. At first she had been astounded at her lack of judgement and at the desperate courage of the young duke. And it was only on their third meeting, when Kolin had warned her that she should be more careful in the evenings since there was a lair of vampires not far from the village, that she realized that he did not suspect her true nature. But by then that no longer mattered to her.